


A Study In Transformation

by Trickkyy



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Cute John, Cutesy, Domestic Fluff, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff, Happy, Hedgehog John, Idiots in Love, M/M, Sad, Sherlock Being Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-22 07:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trickkyy/pseuds/Trickkyy
Summary: An experiment that Sherlock may end up regretting.And John.





	1. Chapter 1

"It's poison, isn't it?" John stared into the mug that was placed in his hands as he lounged on his red plush seat. Sherlock didn't even blink, selecting the leather seat across to fold his legs on. 

"Drink." 

"See," John set the mug down on the small table beside and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees, "when you say it like that, it's not very convincing." 

"I've already apologized about Baskerville, do you really think I would do something like that again?"

John just gave him a pointed look and he sighed, sliding down into his seat even more. If Sherlock Holmes needed to sulk, he would sulk. "Fine. Don't drink it."

It was a small victory when John sighed in resignation and picked the mug up again, sniffing the contents before dipping his tongue in. Sherlock raised a brow and John just rolled his eyes, taking a large sip and wrapped his fingers around the warmth. "Thank you." 

Sherlock hummed in reply and then sat back up in his chair, leaning forward and steepling his fingers under his chin. With each sip that John took, his eyes narrowed more and more and John's widened because of it. 

"What?" The sandy blonde with greying flecks asked, after swallowing a mouthful of tea.

Sherlock didn't even hesitate to let his eyes wander over the man in front while his mind was collecting vigorous amounts of data. "Interesting." 

John set the mug down again with a frown. "You did, didn't you."

Sherlock remained silent. Ignoring.

"For christ sake, Sherlock! I'm not some bloody test subject!" 

"Well..."

"No! I'm not! Why don't you drink up your own concoction's one of these days and see how you turn out! Hm?"

"That would be highly unethical and biased, John. If I were to test out one of my experiments and something were to happen to me, I wouldn't be able to record the outcome."

John let out a hollow laugh and leaned back in his chair, elbow rested on the arm and fingers on his lips. "Unethical."

"Indeed." Sherlock got up from his seat and went to stand beside the red plush chair, gaze going over to the remaining tea contents in the cup. He pulled out a small notebook from his trouser pocket and penned in some minor details. Around 2/4 of the contents residing in the subjects stomach. No sign of affect to the mixture. Interesting...

"So what is it then?" John harrumphed, eyes still glued to the empty chair in front. 

"Experiment." Sherlock replied, emphasizing the 'T'.

~

Sherlock had remained situated in the living room...waiting...while the noise from the shower, and John's humming, filled the flat. He had checked his watch frequently and decided to pace the room instead as a better way to spend his time. 

Ten minutes turned to twenty and then thirty. Sherlock had already scribbled notes on two pages of his notebook (double sided) when the taps were turned and a flushed, dripping and steamy John Watson - wrapped up in his stripe dressing gown - padded into the hallway. 

"You were waiting for me." 

Sherlock didn't hesitate to walk up to him and card his fingers through the other man's damp hair. "Nonsense." 

"Sherlock, you waited for me. What was in the tea, hm? Crushed up sleeping pills? Some years old expired medication?" John frowned with his arms crossed while Sherlock continued to run over his body, now examining his neck. "Rat poison?" The other man added and Sherlock pulled his face away to give him a sour look.

"I thought I told you it wasn't poison." He sneered and John just shrugged.

"Can't be too sure."

"Ugh." 

"I would be dead by now anyway, so I guess I'm safe." 

Sherlock turned away and pulled at his notepad once again to scribble on it while John remained standing, hands plastered on his hips this time. 

"So are you going to tell me what it is, or not?" When he received no reply other then incoherent mumbles, John threw up his hands and stalked to their bedroom, closing the door behind. 

Sherlock pulled out his phone and surfed through his contacts until he was faced with a slice of cake as a display picture. He really didn't want to do this...but the experiment counted on it.

"Brother mine..."

 

_-2 weeks earlier-_

 

Sherlock sprawled out on a chair that rested in the corner of Mycroft's sitting room, not even bothering to remove his shoes while his legs dangled from the armrest. "Don't bore me, Mycroft, animal testing within the government is nothing new." 

"Yes but human gene splicing is something still in the works, dear brother. Which is why..." The tall man standing in front of the fireplace moved in front of Sherlock and produced a small packet from his waistcoat pocket. The dark haired man snatched it up and held it in front of his eyes, examining the white powdery substance. 

"Which is why you're giving it to me." 

Mycroft frowned in detest but turned his head and nodded none the less. "To examine. Not to test with."

Sherlock let out a choked hollow laughter before rearranging himself to a seated position on the chair, "Clearly you've all gone daft if you're allowing me this small pleasure. Examine but don't test." he parroted, "Like giving a child candy."

Mycroft leaned on his umbrella and let out a long built up sigh, running a hand down his face in annoyance, "Just do as I say and don't ask questions."

Sherlock pocketed the little packet in his pocket and stood up from his seat, straightening his shirt and walked to the door, "Inform me if anything changes."

"What changes?" Mycroft asked.

"Absolutely no idea." 

 

- _Present_ -

 

" **-Is unable to get the phone, leave your name and number and I will get back to you. Leave it be, Sherlock.** " 

Sherlock hung up with a growl and removed the small packet from his pant pocket and eyed the amount he had left. It was still half a packet left and his brows scrunched in the middle. What are you?

Thinking better of it, Sherlock ran to the kitchen and grabbed for a syringe, wiping it down with alcohol and testing the tip. Still sharp. He strode to the fridge and opened up the butter compartment, pulling out a small tube labeled 'Jawn' and smirked.

~o~

_"Are you kidding me, **Jawn**?" The shorter man asked with a small frown._

_"It's fitting."_

_"Fitting?" John parroted, staring at the black scrawl that marked the cream masking tape on the vial._

_Sherlock had looked up from his microscope to watch the shifting expressions, grin playing on the edge of his lips. "Very much so."_

_John shook his head with a smile, "The fact that I'm commenting on the way you spelt my name, rather than the fact there's a vial filled with MY blood in the fridge, will remain a mystery to me."_

_"Not a mystery. It's called tolerance. Found in the very best of people."_

_"No, you git," John padded over so that he was standing beside the kitchen table, facing his husband, "it's called love" and he lent over to place a kiss on his forehead before returning his blood to the fridge._

~o~

Taking a small shot glass from the cupboard and dusting it out with a towel, Sherlock poured a small amount of the blood in and then emptied the rest of the packet, stirring the substance with a butter knife. Surprisingly, the powder dissolved into the blood making it slightly watery and easy enough for Sherlock to fill up the syringe. He then heated up a small pot of water on the hob and placed the syringe in, warming up the liquidy substance for use.

He had to try. For science.

Seeing as John decided against leaving their bedroom after his shower, and now that around forty minutes had passed, Sherlock decided to go check on him - syringe in hand. 

Just as he padded to the door and held an ear against it, he heard the soft sounds of John's snoring flooding through. Excellent. He gently pushed it open, slowly walking toward John's side of the bed and lifted the sheet slightly so that his left arm was exposed. Sherlock absently took John's pulse from his wrist, storing the data in his mind palace for later, and then brushed a hand through his fringe for comfort. 

"Just a small prick, you won't feel a thing." He whispered lining up the tip of the needle to the vein in John's arm and pushed it in, slowly draining the contents into his husbands arm. Once it was emptied, he pulled it out and placed a cotton ball in the area for protection. 

Sherlock let out a loud sigh once he reached the hallway, closing the door behind him. It was worth the hassle he kept telling himself, trying to convince his own conscience that he didn't just put the life of his husband at risk. It was over now, the deed was done. 

"The stage is set." He mumbled, walking over to the kitchen and decided on making tea. Sherlock grabbed a mug, placed a teabag in it and waited, backside leaned against the counter and arms folded over his chest. 

The curtain rises.

~

It was already starting to get dark out before Sherlock realized that John was still in bed. Of course John barely got any sleep at the best of times...and of course John would wake up in the middle of the night if he heard any sounds around the flat....but still. Four hours? Who needed four hours of sleep? 

Sherlock let out a huff of air he never knew he was holding and took off his goggles and gloves, leaving his current fungi experiment to walk back to their bedroom door. He didn't even bother to knock, resorting to kicking the door open and marching to the bed with a pout. "John, you've been sleeping for -"

Sherlock's eyes widened. 

The bed was empty. 

The sheets were still pulled up, and the head print in his pillow was still visible, but no John Watson to be seen. 

"John?" Sherlock called, walking over to the adjoining bathroom door. Maybe John had to use the loo? But that was odd because Sherlock didn't hear anything. He took a peek inside but the room was darkened and empty. Ok then. He then walked over to the window to examine if maybe John thought it a good idea for a nice rooftop sky gaze. Locked. 

Sherlock panicked, reaching for his phone in his trouser pocket and typed out a snarky text before hitting send. 

Just then a vibration and ping came from John's bedside table. He hasn't left the flat.

Sherlock ran out of the room in panic and began searching all the rooms, from John's old bedroom upstairs that now became his office, to all the way downstairs in Mrs. Hudson's flat.

"Hello, dear" she smiled, as Sherlock brushed past her without even batting an eye. 

"Is John here?"

"John?" She asked, wiping her damp hands on the dish towel tied about her apron, "No, he's upstairs with you is he not?" 

Sherlock ran upstairs once more and stopped in the centre of the sitting room, closing his eyes and visiting his mind palace. 

The powder. What was it exactly. There must have been something he missed. 

Sherlock's hands waved rapidly about the air, sliding out folders and opening their contents to scan each and every word.

Nothing. 

A small thump from the bedroom brought him back home in 221B and he wasted no time running straight to the source. 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally the reveal!

Sherlock stilled when he reached the threshold, trying to zone in on the thump earlier. Just as he did he heard a small scatter of feet against the hardwood beside the bed. He dove for the sheets throwing them off the floor. What he saw made him gape. There was no John present anymore. What stood before him was a small, prickly and long snouted animal. 

A _hedgehog_. 

"JOHN?!" He cried, frozen in place. The little mammals ears perked at the name and ran straight to the humans knee, nuzzling the fabric of his trousers. It was clearly frightened, Sherlock could tell right away. Of course...this was also John...and most likely having some sort of panic attack. 

Mycroft was definitely not lying when he told Sherlock about testing gene splicing. Of course. All that government testing and giving Sherlock the- 

Wait a minute.

Sherlock grabbed for his phone, furiously locating that stupid piece of cake and hitting dial. Before Mycroft even finished clearing his throat, Sherlock was already barking through the line. "You knew didn't you?!"

"Good evening to you as well, brother mine. And such lovely weather we're having today." 

"Shut up, Mycroft! You knew!"

"Knew what?"

"The powder! What the powder would do!"

There was silence over the line. Sherlock's breathing was heavy with rage, all while 'John' was nestling deeper into his knee, trying to find comfort. 

"So it worked then..." 

Mycroft was growing intolerable and Sherlock was getting even more frustrated. "Myc-!"

"Did you give him the whole packet?" 

"What?"

"You heard me. Did you give him the whole packet?"

"Yes." 

There was a small sigh on the line and Sherlock looked down at the tiny hedgehog, small feet padding against the cloth on his legs as if attempting to climb up on him. Sherlock scooped him up and turned him in his hand to examine John further. 

Well, he did look like a hedgehog. 

John stayed still while gently giving little licks to the flat of Sherlock's palm before looking up at him. It was odd for an animal such as this to have anything else other then beady black eyes, but this wasn't just any old hedgehog. This was John, and John had deep blue bulging eyes that made Sherlock's heart sink. 

_I did this to you...._

"Interesting...."

"Mycroft!"

"I will look into it further - worry not."

Sherlock didn't even bother to register what his brother said next because his phone was thrown across the room. He was angry, sad, disappointed in himself and just down right helpless in the eyes of his husband. Sherlock cupped John in two hands and brought him up to his face, "Are you in pain at all? Are you hurt?" 

There was an unintelligible squeak before a pain blossomed on his nose. John had nipped him.

"I deserved that..." he sighed and stood up, walking over to his phone and pocketing it before facing his transformed husband again. "John, I don't know what do...tell me what to do..." Sherlock felt defeated, useless and his face contorted to sadness, he felt a tear trickle down his cheek and he gently deposited John on the bed before flopping down and sulking into his pillow. 

"Just tell me what to do..." he cried, wiping vigorously at his eyes. It was useless to ask a question of John, since he couldn't respond, but talking helped him feel a slight bit of relief when he knew he was understood.

Just then he felt a small and wet pressure on his cheek. Sherlock opened his now red rimmed eyes to be greeted by the small creature, licking his cheek gently. He could almost picture the sad look on John's own face, cupping his cheek and rubbing the pad of his thumb over it. John was always there. Always. But had Sherlock ever truly been there for his husband in return? 

Never. 

"I'm a wreck, John. Here I am throwing a fit of emotion, while you're the one facing an identity crisis." 

John huffed a small sniff through his little nose which made Sherlock smile and place a kiss on his snout. "As your husband, I will take care of you and figure this out...worry not, John." 

The night went by rather slow, Sherlock remained awake surfing through website databases, hacking through several government research sites and even breaking into the public library to find something - anything - that could help John. When he returned home at 05:00 in the morning, John was splayed out on Sherlock's laptop keyboard while little snores escaped his mouth. 

Sherlock headed over to the leather couch and dropped a handful of books on the coffee table.  Several of them called: 'How To Care For Your Hedgehog' and 'Sweet Facts: Hedgehog Edition' - the books were ordained in pretty flowers and big scribble handwriting made for children. He cringed at the covers before opening up one and scanning through the index. 

He had read everything on: how to clean them properly, how to potty train a hedgehog and what to feed them. His mind palace had even stored the information right next to the apex of John Watson that had taken up most of the space. When he was done, and his eyes threatened to close permanently, Sherlock scooted further down the couch and allowed sleep to consume him. 

He would deal with this later.

Exactly four hours later.

~

Little scraping sounds and screeching cries brought him up from his slumber and Sherlock practically fell off the couch, jumping up while eyes shot to table in their seating room. John was pacing around in a circle, feet tapping the keys of his keyboard as he chattered. The curly haired man wasted no time scooping him up with one hand and then reaching for an open book he 'borrowed' last night. He flipped several pages until a big picture of a cartoon hedgehog wearing baby diapers was smiling brightly. The title said it all.

_**How to Know When Your Boo's Gotta' Potty** _

Sherlock almost gagged at the title and set John on top, "Ok, John. Do you need to release your bodily functions?" 

John stopped pacing and just stared. 

The consulting detectives face scrunched up and his eyes shot to the kitchen archway, "Are you hungry then?" 

Staring.

Sherlock ruffled his hair in frustration before leaning in closer so that John's small snout was inches away from his own nose. If he wasn't going to get a plain answer, then he would deduce it. 

It was like having a stare off, eyes narrowing after each passing minute. Animals were not like humans, they were mostly unpredictable at best, and when trying to deduce an animal, well....it was merely impossible. Sherlock's reasoning was the fact that John was not an animal. Rather, a human who had a little accident where his whole DNA got messed up with that of a woodland creature. Therefore, not impossible.

It must have been ten minutes that had passed before the barely audible rumbling of a small stomach caught his attention. 

"Food it is then!" 

Sherlock shot up from the couch and ran to the kitchen like a speeding bullet, opening up cupboards and scavenging the fridge for possible food items that would please his new small companion.

When he appeared before the coffee table, small plate in hand and a bead of sweat threatening to slide down his brow, John was still seated on the open book - unamused. 

"So we don't have much in the fridge, but don't worry because I have an assortment of food." Sherlock set the plate down in front and watched as John scurried over and plumped down on his arse just staring at the plate. 

There was a small piece of orange, sliver of raw steak and a cube of cheese. All of this was of course accompanied by a small dish of milk. John sniffed it warily.  "Oh for god sakes, John, it's not spoiled!" John had just looked at him and Sherlock could right away image the human equivalent of an sarcastic eyebrow raise. 

"Fine!" Sherlock shot up and ran to the coatrack, grabbing his coat and securing his scarf around his neck. Once all done up, he snatched a grumpy and protesting John and placed him gently into his pocket. "If you won't eat this food, then we will find you some!" 

~

They somehow managed to find themselves at Pet Pavilion, John still throwing a hissy fit of screechy chatters and flailing limbs. On more than one occasion during the cab ride, Sherlock had tried to calm him down but was nipped every time he stuck a finger in his pocket. He had given up eventually and allowed the freak out to continue, not even ending until he was through the door and a smiling employee greeted him. 

"Hello! Welcome to Pet Pavilion, sir. Will you be needin' any assistance today?"

Sherlock strode over to the counter and dug into his pocket, wincing as he felt small, sharp teeth pierce his flesh. When he pulled his hand out, a flailing hedgehog dangled from Sherlock's middle finger. The clerk had just stared at the little ordeal, mouth slightly agape. "I need food." 

~

Sherlock carried out a full shop bag of mealworms, small hedgehog sized jumpers, and a little bee bell toy which he spotted instantly and idly placed it in his cart, giving the clerk a blank look when they just stared in question. 

Instead of taking a cab, Sherlock decided to take John for a 'walk', the little beastie nestled inside his coat pocket once again. As he turned a corner, Sherlock plowed right into someone walking the other way and he stumbled backward from the impact. 

"Sorry mate!" A worried voice from the other man called....it was a familiar voice. "Sherlock! Is that you?"

Ah. Stamford.

"Mike." He responded, regaining his balance and running a gloved hand through his hair. 

"You know I was just thinking about you two! Where's John been? We were supposed to meet up at the pub yesterday." 

Sherlock's eyes darted and he took a breath to keep his composure intact. "Busy." 

Stamford grinned, "Not like John to ignore my texts and bail out on me for a drink without letting me know." 

Sherlock shrugged nonchalantly and scanned the area, trying to act bored. "Yes, well he does have a life as well you know, it does catch up on him." 

Mike just shook his head with a chuckle, "Don't I know it. You seem a bit off though, Sherlock. Everything with you two going alright?"

Sherlock's eyes shot to him and narrowed, "Of course everything is alright, perfect, fantastic. Why wouldn't it be?..."

Mike coughed awkwardly and removed his glasses, reaching for his cleaning cloth and nervously wiping them down. "No reason at all! Was just askin', no need to bite my head off or nothing. You know, John rambles on about you non-stop." Sherlock flushed all while ignoring the built up movement in his coat pocket. 

"Something in your pocket?" Mike asked.

Sherlock's eyes shot down and he quickly shoved a hand in his pocket, grabbing hold of the flailing limbs. Of course, he completely forgot to clamp down the little mouth because two seconds later little squeaks and chirps erupted. 

"I-I'm - I have to get going now..John...I-uh.. require John for a sample." Sherlock stammered, slowly backing up and heading toward the park. 

Mike's face scrunched up in confusion before he waved awkwardly at the retreating body, "S-sure, see you around, Sherlock." 

~

The park was somewhat empty, just with a few morning joggers and pet owners walking about. Sherlock had to grin at the irony of John Watson as he gently pulled him out of his coat pocket and held him balled in his hands. If hedgehogs could give a death stare, John was giving one right now. 

"Oh please, John, don't give me that look. You're still hungry, once you eat you'll be in a better mood." He grabbed the shopping bag and removed the container of meal worms, popping the top and dangling the wiggly insect in front of his companions snout. John used his front feet to push back and away from the bug, turning his small head in detest. "John." Sherlock chided, bringing the bug closer, "just give it a try, you may like it." But John didn't comply, further attempting to wriggle out of his humans grasp. 

Just then a little boy around six or so, seated himself on the bench beside them and pulled at his backpack, unzipping the large section and pulling out a small tupperware container. John's attention immediately was turned to its contents. Cantaloupe and grapes. His snout twitched in interest and he began to paw in the little boys direction. Sherlock caught on instantly and stared at the clear container in the boys hands. 

"You would rather have that instead, wouldn't you?" He mumbled, rolling his eyes as John's small tongue darted out of his mouth subconsciously. Sherlock edged himself to one side of the bench, closer to the child. He casually crossed his legs and peered around the park before clearing his throat. The child had just popped a purple grape in his mouth before looking up at him. 

Sherlock had made sure to plaster a smile on his face before saying, "Excuse me, I was wondering if I might have a grape?" Embarrassment pitted itself in his stomach and he felt like a complete idiot. The child blinked up at him, clear blue eyes hinted with confusion. Instead of even bothering to ask, the small boy popped another grape in his mouth, still watching the strange man who sat on the bench beside him. 

"Why do I even bother..." Sherlock mumbled grumpily, deciding now to scrap his plans. Already there were several mothers eyeing him suspiciously and he scooted down the bench an inch. 

Then there was a squeak. 

Sherlock's attention was brought down to John who was still secured in his hand. "John I-"

"Oi," a little voice from beside him, the boy, spoke up and Sherlock turned to face him. The child had leaned against the arm rests of both benches to point at the little prickly creature. "Is tha' a Hedgehog?" 

Sherlock nodded and looked back to John, who's attention was now drawn to the child. He squirmed and shouted in an attempt to break from his husbands grasp. 

Ah, John. Always the pleaser.

Knowing better, Sherlock set his husband down and watched as John carefully marched over to the edge of the bench, walking along the plank carefully so not to fall off. 

The child giggled, placing his tupperware down so he could hold both his hands out for John to crawl onto. Before John could even set a small paw down, the child retracted his hands and looked up to Sherlock with a pleading look. 

Sherlock nodded and sat back into the bench watching as a grand smile appeared on the boys face when he picked up the small mammal. "Does he 'ave a name, sir?"

"John. His name is John." 

~

A couple of hours passed before the little boy had to go home. John had spent the whole time chasing his finger and rolling up in a ball whenever the child tried to tickle him, earning a fit of giggles from his actions. 

Just watching the two of them play made Sherlock's heart swell and hurt even more, wishing for his husband to be back to normal. 

~o~

_"Uncle John, could we play planes again!"_

_"Aye, Commander" John smiled, crouching down on one knee and picking up his niece, slinging her over his shoulders. "Are the wings ready to fly, Commander?"_

_Grace held her arms out straight beside her, "Yes!"_

_"All right, safety controls being set," John reached for her ankles to keep her secured and walked briskly, attempting to create an engine-like noise. "Ready for take off!" he started jogging down the grassy path and began running in circles while Grace giggled uncontrollably on his shoulders._

_Sherlock had continued walking behind them, arms at his back as he basked in his husbands kind and comforting nature. He could watch John all day, the way he laughs, the way he smiles, the way his nose crinkles when a gust of cold air hits against his face. He was gorgeous, and Sherlock couldn't help but stare in awe._

_When John caught his eye, he sent a warm smile and wink his way that made Sherlock blush with embarrassment at being caught._

~o~

"Cheeky. You had that planned out the whole time, didn't you?"

John just looked up to him with his big blue eyes, crunching on a piece of cantaloupe while he lay on his back, cupped in Sherlock's hands. Before the boy left, he had made up a small serviette of leftover melon and grapes which he specifically said were for John. Sherlock had made sure to cross his heart and even broke off a piece, giving it to John to show off his loyalty. 

He grinned at the small ball and poked around the shopping bag before an "A-ha!" and pulled out a small woollen jumper specifically made for him. John's nose immediately wrinkled after he licked his paws to lap up the rest of the sweetness before he just stared at the small outfit that was jokingly put on a equally small clothes hanger. 

"It's chilly anyway John, just the beginning of March, you need to bundle up." Sherlock tugged the small jumper off and carefully maneuvered John through the sleeves. Sherlock let out a chuckle and dabbed at his eyes when he saw the rewards of his efforts. John in fact looked like human John, and it was bloody brilliant that a cable knit jumper similar to his own was available for a Hedgehog. "Really, John. I cannot tell the difference." He laughed, earning a nip at his thumb. 

"Ow!"

John chattered and rolled over on his stomach, turning so that his backside was in view. "Oh ple-" 

Sherlock's phone chimed and he didn't waste any time pulling it out from his pocket. 

**Brother mine, I have some news. -MH**

**What. SH**

**Is John with you? -MH**

**Don't be pedestrian. SH**

**Baker Street, 15. -MH**  

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Its the end!

"Three more days?!" 

Mycroft sat crossed legged on Sherlock's seat and idly fiddled with his umbrella handle. "They're trying their best, Sherlock." 

"But three days?! Are your petty scientists that useless that they need three days to put him back to normal?" Sherlock practically tread holes in the floor, pacing angrily. 

"I'm here, by the way, for a DNA sample of John's previous self."

Sherlock froze in his spot and then charged at his chair, forcefully grabbing the lapels of his brothers suit and pushing him back into the seat. "You did this to him." He seethed, eyes black from rage. Mycroft had tried to place a hand on Sherlock's wrist to calm, but the result left him sinking into the cushion further.

"I did no such thing."

"You knew! You knew this would happen and you let it! Damn you!" 

"I told you to simply examine the substance, not test with it!" 

"Really, Mycroft? Even a brain clogged of cake such as yours could have deduced my intent!"

There was a pause from the older man before he sighed in defeat. "I did..." 

Sherlock got up and marched to the bedroom, returning only a second later with a short strand of greying hair. "Take it and get out." 

Mycroft adjusted his suit and rightened his trousers before producing a small vial and collecting the hair sample. "I will keep in touch bro-"

"Get. Out." 

There was complete silence before the footsteps of his insufferable brother descended the flat stairs and the door shut behind them. 

Three days. The thought was already starting to eat up at Sherlock's mind. It was a struggle just to get through one, and now he had to wait three more. He sulked over to his seat and dropped into it, body going completely numb. "You idiot....you bloody fool..." 

John had continued to shout and cry from his position on the kitchen table, but Sherlock just drowned him out, falling instead into his own darkened mind.

~

Hours went by, could have possibly been a day already before he uncurled himself and walked aver to the kitchen table where John had rolled up into a ball, nestled on a clean saucer. He turned his direction to the kettle, filling it with water and placing it on the hob before reaching for two mugs and plopping in two teabags. 

The sound of the water bubbling caused John to stir and he sleepily opened his big blue eyes, looking around curiously before turning to Sherlock. 

Sherlock emptied the water into the mugs and grabbed a bendy straw from one of John's 'clean' drawers, waiting until the tea had cooled a bit before placing it in his husbands mug. He set the mug down beside his tiny creature and bent the straw down for easy access. He was about to walk back to his chair to sulk some more when John had managed to walk to the end of the table and let out a small huff. 

"Good morning, John." Sherlock said idly, eyes drifting back to his seat.

The small noise was made again but this time he did comply, turning to face the little beast who was staring up at him with sad eyes. It crushed his heart. 

Sherlock set both mugs on the side table beside the old plush chair and retrieved John, cupping him in his hands and folding the both of them on the red chair. He brought John up to his face, receiving a sweet lick to his nose for comfort and nuzzled him back before laying him down on his chest. 

"We're going to get through this, John" Sherlock whispered, gently petting and caressing the ball of prickles, "Just the two of us...against the rest of the world."

~ 

The two of them passed out without even realizing it, John huddled in a ball on the juncture of his humans neck, while Sherlock still remained sprawled on his husbands chair. Seated on the end table next to the emptied mugs was the detectives phone. 

Ping.

....

Ping.

.........

Ping.

.............

~

Sherlock set a plate out on the table and scooted the white glass toward John. It was filled with freshly cut tomatoes, very small cubes of pineapple, some small chunks of apple and a little pile of dead mealworms. John insisted with a nose crinkle that he would no way in hell eat those while they were still squirming. 

Sherlock went to making himself an omelette filled with sliced ham, freshly cut parsley and cheese; the counters remained cluttered with dirty dishes and pans but was easily pushed aside into a stack whenever they got in the way. Of course, now that John was a mere little Hedgehog, any jobs around the flat were Sherlock's responsibility.......in other words, they never got done. 

After the two of them miraculously woke up from their naps, John had fussed over his stomach yet again, forcing his 'posh boy' to take care of it. And Sherlock didn't disappoint. 

"Is that better?" Sherlock asked between a forkful of egg.

As a response, John cheekily rolled on his back and flailed his arms and legs, grabbing his husbands attention and earning a hand fed meal. 

"I think this form makes you even more demanding." Sherlock grinned, reaching for a dead mealworms and dangling it in front of John's snout. John's reaction was a tongue lick and a greedy grab for the crunchy bug. 

As the munching filled the quietness of the kitchen, Sherlock idly patted around for his phone before realizing he had left it back in the sitting room. Marching over, he scooped it up and typed out the password before his jaw dropped. 

"John. We need to go. Now." 

~

"Six hours late. I am indeed shocked."

After the text he received from Mycroft, Sherlock had bundled John into his pocket and ran out the door into the black car that had parked itself just down the street. Of course he had known that his brother would be prepared enough to supply a car once the text was read. 

"What have you found Mycroft." Sherlock replied, tapping his foot impatiently. 

Mycroft walked to his desk and produced a syringe of blue liquid in the palm of his hand. Sherlock marched over and snatched it, bringing it to the window and examining it under light. 

"We re-arranged the DNA from the hair follicle you had produced of John's mixed with that of the Hedgehog, we re-constructed 'John'."

The younger man paused and looked up at his brother with knit brows, "What does that mean? _Reconstructed_ John..."

Mycroft clasped his hands behind his back, "In all sense of the word, Sherlock, we have re-constructed the same serum but instead used John's complete human DNA."

"Will it work?" 

"Testing proves."

Sherlock stalked over and glowered at his brother, "I need to know right now if it will work, Mycroft." 

"There's a basin in the restroom, clean him up and then we will proceed to the surgery room. I have also taken the opportunity to supply him with clothes once the procedure is finished."

Sherlock gently snatched John out from his pocket and noticed the tear welled eyes that had blurred the ocean blue in them. His face fell and without even a second thought nuzzled his little husband before taking him into the restroom and laying him down into the water so he was a floating ball of spikes. Sherlock remained silent as he gently soaped him up and scrubbed him off, dabbing at John with a towel when he was finished and then just sitting on the toilet seat, with knees up and John sitting atop them. 

There was a knock on the door and a gentle, "we're ready to administer, Mr. Holmes" before John let out a little squeak and gave his husband a lick on the nose for reassurance. 

"Into battle." Sherlock choked out, blinking his eyes rapidly to hold in the tears and opened the door to a woman wearing laboratory garb. 

"If I may take the subject, Mr-"

Sherlock protectively cupped John in his hands, "First of all," he seethed, tongue spitting venom as he spoke, "John is NOT a _subject_. Secondly," he pushed past her toward the door "Its _Watson_ -Holmes." 

He reached for the handle and turned, opening the door slightly, "Mycroft! I demand a new _thing_." He spat, looking directly at the woman before him with narrowed eyes, "This one won't do."

~

Mycroft had complied, calling upon another scientist named Dr. Monty to fill in. Sherlock had accepted but resisted when he was asked to leave the room so that sleeping gas could be administered before the injection. 

"Mr. Watson-Holmes, I must ask you to leave now -"

Sherlock's eyes shot to him from his seat beside the bed, "Dr. Monty, I must ask you to report on the situation regarding yourself and the maid," he took an exaggerated sniff of the air before continuing, "I'm sure your wife wouldn't appreciate the smell of _Shalimar_ on your clothes, let alone the hickey on your nape. Coat collars and scarves can only cover so much -"

"OUT!"

Sherlock had soon found himself situated on a chair outside of the room, scowling at the punishment. It had required two of Mycroft's men to get him out of the 'surgery room' alone. He had sneered at their first attempts before big brother himself administered a knock-out agent to calm him down. 

"You need to practice listening, Sherlock." Mycroft frowned, turning his umbrella handle absent mindlessly. 

"Isn't there chocolate somewhere you could be eating?" 

"Sherlock, please. Leave this childlike behaviour at home."

"I will once John is safe and sound." He hissed, rolling in on himself on his chair.

Mycroft sighed and crossed his legs, "Even more dramatic at this age" he sighed, rolling his eyes.

"Shut up." 

~ 

Four hours passed exactly before Dr. Monty went into the room to check on his patient. When he remerged, Sherlock had grabbed him from the lapels and pushed him aside, going for the door and over to the bed. There were muffled voices of protest that Sherlock simply ignored while his eyes roamed the dark and his hand reached out for - 

Hair. 

Soft, short hair. 

Sherlock's knees buckled and he collapsed on the ground, hands roaming the human body that lay covered under white sheets while tears filled his eyes. "John..."he cried, burying his sobs in the mattress. He felt a hand rest on his head and run through his curls before his head shot up and was faced with that of John. His John. A tired smile formed on his lips with tears cascading down his cheeks and soaking into the pillow under him. 

"Sherlock.." he sniffed, and was reaching to wipe his eyes when needy lips crashed amongst his own. 

They were wet balls of fluff that repeatedly couldn't keep their hands off of each other now that John was human again. Mycroft just stood in the doorway, leaning on his umbrella with a small grin. "Welcome back, Doctor Watson-Holmes. You have been missed." 

Sherlock rubbed at his eyes vigorously in an attempt to hide them from his brother, "Get out Mycroft." 

"Very well." He smiled and left the two idiots to their constant "I love you's" and Sherlock's continuous apologies. 

~

"Sherlock!" John called, lifting up the cushion from his chair and running his hand along the seams. 

Sherlock floundered down the steps and placed a kiss on John's head before rearranging the goggles that rested on his nose. It was now that Sherlock realized he couldn't take things for granted and seeing his husband now, radiant, gorgeous (with ruffled after-sex hair), and just simply 'human' made him smile and his heart swell with love.  "What is it John?"

"Where's my ring?" He asked, pointing to the empty space on his ring-finger. 

The ring.

Sherlock's eyes widened and he ran to their bedroom, shuffling through the sheets until they were all nestled in a heap by the door. He rummaged through the dressers simply ignoring the wreck he had caused to his sock index before hearing a small laugh from behind. Kneeling at the side of his bed on the floor, sat John, hand cradling the small golden piece of their bond in his hands before slipping it on and facing his husband with a loving smile. 

"Can't believe we forgot it here" he chuckled.

Sherlock attempted to close the drawer he was currently destroying but gave up and decided instead to wrap himself around the smaller and warmer body that remained on the floor. "Too much has happened in such little time" he sighed, running his nose along John's jawline. 

John hummed in response and slowly closed his eyes relishing in the moment. It was of course short lived when Sherlock heard the sound of a rumbling stomach below him. 

"Care for some mealworms? Still have a bucketful." 

"Oh sod off!" John laughed, tackling his husband to the ground and pinning his hands above his head, "Just promise me that experiment testing will be limiting and non-life threatening. At least on me, that is." 

"Well....." Sherlock hummed jokingly in thought.

"Bloody git." John smiled and gave Sherlock a quick peck. 

"I promise." 

Beside them, Sherlock's phone had managed to fall out of his pocket and now vibrated with a text. The detective rolled his eyes and let out a sigh, "I can't promise that with Mycroft though." 

John roared with laughter, rolling over on his back and clutching at his stomach, freeing Sherlock from his grasp. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is completed! Will be updating the rest of the chapters daily so keep an eye out ;) 
> 
> Comments & Kudos are always appreciated <3


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